I thought it might be fun to compare her latest long-winded, Poor Me breakup spew with the one she wrote about Prom King. This was less than 14 months ago, bitches. Someone needs to get some help. Haven’t you heard? Once again — she is NOT okay right now! She is heartbroken after blogging and Tweeting the shit out of yet another relationship! She has cried and cried and cried and cried some more! Once again another boy fled after spending some face time with her, pointed out to her how mental she is, and once again she is so very heartbroken, because she loved him so very much, and he is the most AMAZING PERSON TO EVER LIVE, and she simply must take a little break from posting now. She needs time to heal!
From March 29, 2010:
I don’t really know where to begin, except to say that right now, at this very moment, I don’t want to write this entry. I don’t want to write it not because it doesn’t need to be written – it does – but because I would rather take an Ambien, crawl into my bed and go to sleep.
After last night, in which I tossed and turned with anxiety until 6 am, at which point I fell into a nightmare-filled semi-sleep until 10 am, I decided, “Enough.” In fact, the only thing I actually accomplished today was going to my doctor and actually – for the first time in my insomniac life – asking for an Ambien prescription.
If you’re surprised to hear me invoke the big A (Ambien!?! But I don’t believe in meds!!), that should give you an idea of how willing I am to try all of the solutions I haven’t before.
So, let me fill you in a little here. I think it was readily apparent I had a bit of a breakdown last Tuesday, around 4 am, a time in which breakdowns tend to occur.
I’ve always found it fascinating, in a horrific sort of way, how life likes to hit us with 1-2 punches. In this case, for me at least, it felt like a 1-2-3 punch. First Jordan left, then I found out my ex Michael got engaged to the girl he began dating right after me, then – yep – on Tuesday evening around 10 pm, Prom King broke up with me.
And that was it, sort of. The idea of coming on here and posting some happy photo of a cupcake or a pair of shoes or a fun, inspirational quote was too much for me. And to explain what happened – that seemed even worse. I couldn’t handle it. I felt like I was drowning. To own up to all of that – to tell you how much pain I was in (and why) – I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to talk about it.
I wanted to crawl into my bed, which I did, by the way, and cry. And cry. And cry.
It embarrasses me to write in a public forum that my response to a breakup at the age of 29 is almost identical to my response to a breakup at the age of 16. How is that possible?? Does this not get any easier??
First, please know that while he most definitively broke up with me, he did so in the most mature, calm, considered manner, and he did “leave the door open” for getting back together at some point in the future. Honestly, I really don’t want to get into the details of why our relationship wasn’t working, but suffice it to say, the fault is on my shoulders. The lightest explanation (by that I mean, this is not everything, but some of the less personal things) has to do with a lot of judgments I made about him at the beginning – things like “he’s too young to take seriously” and “I don’t want to live in New York City anymore” and “I don’t want to date a lawyer” and “He doesn’t read enough.” I allowed myself to get distracted by details which don’t matter (who cares if he’s 25 if he treats me well??) and lose sight of the Big Stuff. Stuff like: Is he a good person? Does he make me laugh? Am I a good person when I’m around him?
I over-analyzed everything (um, hello … have you met me??) and managed to make a loving and confident man insecure (at least with regard to me). That led to a sort of downward spiral in our communication, a lot of misunderstandings, and a fair amount of fighting. The sad thing is – we both love each other as people, and it didn’t have to go down that route.
Ultimately, he just didn’t feel the same way about me anymore, and while I completely understand why, it was a tough blow to take – especially because I felt that I had brought it upon myself.
I don’t know whether we’ll get back together or not, but I do know that I have made a promise to myself that I will NEVER make these mistakes with another man again.
Here’s what I’ve done in the intervening time:
- Re-read every single text he ever sent me. Cry.
- Re-read every single email he ever sent me. Cry. Forward some to him. Realize that’s really pathetic. Regret it. Cry more.
- Call him about seven times in the first three days, crying. Realize that’s really, REALLY pathetic. Regret it. Cry more.
- Replay every single scene in our relationship where I screwed up, and reenact those scenes with a different reaction on my part – and new outcomes. Like Sliding Doors except no Gwyneth Paltrow. Then cry.
- Call my mother at least three times a day.
- Attempt to meditate like a Buddist monk. Fail. Stupid monks never broke up with anyone.
- Lose appetite. Not eat much. Then eat chocolate. Then not eat much again. Weigh myself. Secretly think that only benefit to breaking up is break up weight loss. Still would rather be fat and with him.
- Decide never to date again.
- Decide that “never” means at least a month.
- Contemplate buying one-way ticket to ashram in India, all Eat Pray Love style.
- Realize I don’t know of any ashrams in India. Think maybe I should just go to Italy and eat instead.
- Wonder if I’ll ever find anyone who treats me as well again.
- Play with my dog … constantly. Realize dog and mom are only things that cheer me up. Talk to my dog a little. Watch dog yawn: Dog has seen many of these breakup-meltdowns. Dog knows “this too shall pass.”
- Days pass. Things get better. Then they get worse. Then they get better. Then worse. Up. Down. Up. Down. Down. Down. Up. I’ve been here before (too many times), and I know – intellectually – it will get better. That doesn’t always make it feel better right here, right now.
- Actually work out. This is a small miracle inandof itself.
- Go to church. Yes. Church. In Manhattan.
- Talk – multiple times – to every close friend I have. They all check in with me at least every other day. This does help, you know.
- Force myself not to call ex. Succeed. Feel very victorious. Call my mom instead. I have a good mom.
- After a horrible, fitful night of non-sleep, give in and ask my doctor for an Ambien prescription – just to get me through these next two weeks or so. Feel a little embarrassed, but the only thing worse than getting over a break-up is getting over a break-up on no sleep.
- Write this entry. Feel a hell of a lot better at the end of it than I did in the beginning. 🙂
Of course, that’s not the end of the story, and the pain I talked of in my entry last week wasn’t just due to losing him … I’m well aware that when you have a reaction like that (or rather, when I do), it’s telling you that you need to reassess your life choices in a way that you hadn’t before.
I still don’t know whether I’ll continue to “lifecast” the way I had been … I just know I can’t stop WRITING. I don’t know what the future holds. But I do know this: when I received the emails many of you sent me over the last few days, they lifted me up. I can’t even describe how much they meant to me. They made me feel as if I wasn’t alone.
Because I’m not. You’re not. I think there is something going on here, with this generation – there’s something very lost about us. Or maybe that’s just me, and those of you who wrote in to tell me you felt similarly.
I feel it so strongly that I want to talk more about it, and I want to explore it with you … people who are struggling through it, and those who have come out on the other side. Inasmuch as there ever is “the other side.” (One girl wrote me that she goes through this every two years!) When I read through a few of my past entries, it became apparent that I’ve been lost for quite some time now.
I still don’t have the answers, but just admitting – out loud, here – that I’m in pain, that I’m trying to find them, that I’m working on finding a therapist, exploring my faith, even (sigh) taking a bit of medication to make sure I get good sleep at night – it helps.
You helped. So … thank you for that.
Okay, I have a little white dog to pet now.
And PS. I’m also working on enabling the comments here, so you’ll be able to interact with me (and each other) in a way you couldn’t before. I think that will go a long way to allowing us to all understand each other better. And maybe, maybe … it could be helpful? Even fun?? I could use a little fun right now.
PPS. This doesn’t mean I’m back posting full time. It just means I’m explaining where I’m at right now. I feel VERY vulnerable and extremely fragile. So … please. Understand that.